Two is Better
by cb1nz
Summary: An unexpected confession from Hermione leaves Fred and George...intrigued and hungry for more. Can the three of them find love, or is sharing impossible? FredxHermionexGeorge, no twincest.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is awesome - I don't own anything.**

Chapter One

"Look Hermione, I know you don't want to hear it, but this has the Weasley twins written all over it! Seriously, a toffee that shrinks whomever eats it down to the size of a snitch? If the Weasley twins didn't invent it, then who in Merlin's name did!?" Healer Anaxos was red from shouting. "Well, this time, they've gone too far. That boy could have died – _would_ have died if his parents hadn't gotten him here fast enough. We're lucky he's from a wizarding family – if his parents were muggles, they might not even have known to bring him to St. Mungo's!"

Hermione inhaled sharply in frustration, "I know, I know – I agree with you, but there's a possibility that we don't know the full story. I know Fred and George, they test everything extensively before they sell it in their shop. They would never-"

"It's not the first time!" roared Anaxos. "Other kids have been in here before suffering from jokes or trick sweets gone wrong, some of which we know were definitely the Weasleys-"

"That was when they were still in school," argued Hermione, "there hasn't been a single accident since their shop opened that we know for sure was caused by one of their products, there may well be a good explanation. It probably has nothing to do with them!"

"_Probably_ isn't good enough!" Anaxos was livid now. Hermione didn't think she had ever seen him this angry before. "They need to be reported, and maybe even shut down. They're not safe." Bending his head down to her height, Anaxos stepped in close, blue eyes flashing a few inches away from her own, his voice now quiet and intense. "I swore an oath when I became a healer and you swore the same one. I know they're your friends, but we cannot stand idly by if their wares are putting people at risk. We need to report this to the Ministry."

For a long moment they were silent, both breathing heavily from shouting. Finally, Hermione exhaled in defeat. "Fine," she conceded, holding up both her hands, "but please, let me just speak to them first? For my own sanity if nothing else."

Anaxos gave her a hard stare from under dark blond brows for a long moment before giving a tight nod. "Speak to them tonight and we'll file that report tomorrow."

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, I'll let you know what I find out."

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Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was closed, but there was a light on in the flat above the shop as Hermione strode briskly towards it, apprehension twisting in her stomach. Yes, Fred and George had been careless and somewhat cavalier creating and testing joke sweets in their days at Hogwarts – the tonne tongue toffee being a memorable example – but Hermione was sure they weren't behind this shrinking sweet. The shop meant too much for them to risk their reputation and license by selling something unsafe. At least, she was almost sure she was sure. She couldn't seem to dispel the creeping doubt running through her mind. Anaxos was right, aside from the Weasleys, who else would create such a thing? And mixing the spell with a sweet – that was trademark Weasley style and ingenuity. There were very few other Wizards who could even figure out how they made their jokes and gags work – Hermione was one of them.

She shook herself as she approached the door. She _would_ have an open mind and give them a chance to offer up an explanation, or a denial, or...something. In the centre of the bright orange door was what looked very much like a shrunken head, blackened with age, with a few scraggly tufts of dirty grey hair emerging from the shriveled ears. Underneath the head hung a small wooden sign with the words 'Pinch My Nose' written in scrawling script. Really, she thought, the wizarding world needed to adopt a few more muggle technologies. There was nothing wrong with a simple doorbell. Quickly, Hermione reached forward and pinched the nose, jumping when the head gave a loud yell of surprise and began shouting insults at her in a curiously tinny voice.

"_... no call for that young lady! I cannot fathom what passes for manners these days, but surely tweaking someone's nose when they are peacefully sleeping is still considered rude and uncouth! You should be ashamed, and if you were my child I'd have no qualms bending over you over my knee and giving you a good hiding that you wouldn't –"_

The door opened and Hermione looked up into a smiling, freckled face topped with fiery red hair. Fred broke into a broad grin "Heya, Hermione, come on in – step into our lair," he finished, waggling his eyebrows. Despite herself, Hermione smiled in return and stepped into the cheerily bright hallway. Fred looked down at the shrunken head, which was still tinnily shrieking vile imprecations at Hermione. "Oi, you, shut it," pinching its nose. The shrunken head stopped, returning to how Hermione had first seen it. Fred shrugged ruefully at her. "Present from Percy during his I'm-sorry-I-was-such-a-git stage. He thought it was funny and would, of course, be perfect for me and George, since 'you two can never be serious'. I wanted to chuck it, but George won't let me, something about keeping the peace."

Hermione nodded, looking up and studying Fred closely before catching herself and blushing, realizing she was looking for signs of guilt. She cleared her throat, trying to hide her sudden embarrassment. "Thanks for agreeing to see me at such short notice. I know you two are always busy, but it's important." They were walking through the hallway and up the slightly crooked flight of stairs as she spoke. The walls were lined with photos of the Burrow and Weasley family members, as well as a few from when Fred and George were in Hogwarts. The railing appeared to be decorated in what looked like knitted streamers. Likely Mrs Weasley's handiwork. Hermione smiled at the thought. She really ought to visit the Burrow again soon; it had been far too long.

"It's no trouble," said Fred.

"Always willing to help the Golden Girl and one-time lover of our ickle Ronniekins," added George, stepping out onto the landing at the top of her stairs.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's not even here, why do you persist in calling him that?"

"Because I wouldn't want to get out of the habit and accidentally call him Ron to his face," laughed Fred.

"It wouldn't do for him to get ideas above his station," George added seriously.

Hermione chuckled as they led her through to the lounge. Wizards or no, flats inhabited by bachelors all looked eerily similar. The lack of anything remotely homey and abundance of clutter reminded her forcefully of her muggle friend Ed's flat. The room also smelled faintly, slightly stale with faint undercurrents of burnt food and potions. Hermione wrinkled her nose before looking around to find a place that looked safe enough to sit. She chose a relatively clear bit of couch next to a pile of parchments and cast a few wandless and silent curse detections before seating herself. Fred and George were standing in identical poses, arms crossed and smirking opposite her when she looked up again. Hermione tried hard to fight down another blush. "You should try and take it as a compliment that one cannot be too careful in your presences," she said archly. They both laughed at that and cleared seats for themselves. Hermione refused the offer of a drink, instead pulling a mug from her purse and using her wand to fill it with hot tea.

She studied them as she blew across the top of her drink. It was nearly impossible to tell them apart when they were in the shop as George would usually wear a charmed ear and they would dress in matching outfits. But in the comfort of their flat they looked very different. George's hair was much longer than Fred's to cover the hole where his ear had been, nearly reaching his shoulders. The dressed differently too. Fred's clothes were more flamboyant than his twin's. He was more likely to wear deep purples or bright greens with the slightly oddball embellishments typical of wizarding clothes: feathers, bells, lace, or magically shifting colours. George had become firmly attached to muggle clothing after being given a pair of jeans and a hoodie by Harry a few years ago and usually wore greys or faded colours.

Other muggle items were littered about the flat. An entire wall was devoted to muggle books, many of them sci-fi and fantasy titles Hermione had purchased for them as a Christmas present the year before. They had rapidly become hooked and bought out nearly the entire sci-fi section of Waterstone's on a slightly awkward visit they had begged Hermione to help them with. Fred had explained that some of the gadgets in the stories were great inspirations for new inventions, and George's eyes had glazed over with excitement when Harry had then introduced them to Star Wars and lightsabres. Hermione wondered if she would live to regret her present.

"So," began Fred as he seated himself and handed George a butterbeer, "what has brought the illustrious Hermione Granger to our door?"

"Healer of the sick and injured-"

"-Champion of house elves and merfolk-"

"-Rule follower and breaker-"

"Guys, I need you to be serious," said Hermione, holding up a hand to halt their banter. She knew from experience they could keep up the twin-speak for hours. They nodded simultaneously and shifted to face her, wearing identical expressions of concern. "A young boy was brought in to St Mungo's today who had eaten a sweet, most likely a toffee, that shrunk him." She passed them both copies of a photo of the boy next to a Galleon to give a sense of scale. "Problem was, it didn't shrink all of his internal organs uniformly and he was effectively having a heart attack, seizure, and a few other serious things all at the same time." She paused, looking George and then Fred in the eye. "He nearly died, and as it is he'll be in St. Mungo's for a week or so regrowing most of his insides." She went on quickly before they could say anything. "I want to know if you two know of anything that could have done this."

The immediate silence that fell increased the sick feeling in Hermione's stomach tenfold, and she broke out into a cold sweat when George sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. She felt like she'd just been punched, all breath knocked from her. She'd been so sure, so convinced they'd had nothing to do with the incident. "No way," she choked out, looking between the two identically guilty expressions, "no, you can't have..." she trailed off, completely at a loss for words.

Fred spoke first, "Before you get mad, you need to know that we never sold it, the sweet was – _is_ – still in development."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God," she murmured, sagging in her chair. "I knew you wouldn't sell something that hadn't been thoroughly tested."

"But you worried." George said, eyeing her with a faint smile.

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "Worried for you, worried about you." She shrugged, "I'm good at worrying – just asked Harry and Ron." Fred snorted derisively. "Right," Hermione continued briskly as she dug out a notebook and pen from her purse, "can you start at the beginning and tell me everything about it? What spells you were using, when you were developing it, who knew about it, and so on. Healer Anaxos wanted to file a report requesting an investigation of your shop, but if you didn't ever sell the sweet then we're looking at something else entirely." She flicked her wand and her hair lifted itself from her face, twisting into a french plait. She took another sip of her tea, savouring the cinnamon and nutmeg flavours... wait a minute, she'd made herself plain black tea... she jerked her head up sharply, glaring at the twins who were grinning unrepentantly. "What did you do?" she snapped. 'What did you put in my drink? _How_ did you-"

"Sorry Hermione," began George, sounding distinctly not sorry.

"We've finished this one but just needed to test it on someone else-"

"-Before we release it to the public. And we need an unsuspecting person-"

"-to test this one out properly."

They were standing now, circling and examining her like she was a bug under a microscope, and Fred had a very worrying gleam in his eye.

Letting out a groan of frustration, Hermione collapsed back into the couch. Not again. It had been years since these two had tricked her. To have slipped up now was just humiliating. "Couldn't you have got someone else? Ron, maybe?"

An amused expression flicked over their faces as they shared a look. "Not for this particular product" said George firmly.

"It might have, er, distorted our test results," snickered Fred.

Hermione sighed. "Fine, whatever. Can we just get this over with?"

Now George was looking mischievous as well. He leaned forward until his face was level with hers. "Sure thing, Miss Granger." He winked. "Tell me, how do you think about me and Fred... sexually?"

"Or romantically" offered Fred.

"Or romantically," repeated George.

"Oh well that's easy," said Hermione, sitting straight again and settling her hands in her lap. "You're the sweetly handsome one that screams passionate romance," she said as she pointed at George, "and you're more of the devilish rogue type, a bit like Han Solo," she continued as she pointed at Fred. "However, I find you both equally attractive, if in somewhat different ways." She frowned now, tapping her chin as she thought. "I probably only think of kissing either of you once or twice each month, and I've often written diary entries imagining what it might be like. It might have something to do with my hormonal cycle each month, but I've never properly researched it, though I could... Wait, why I am I telling you this?"

Both of the twins had slightly shocked expressions, and George's eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. "Carry on," urged Fred, a trifle hoarsely, "this is most...illuminating."

"Oh, ok" said Hermione, somewhat confused. There seemed to be a faint niggling voice shouting at the back of her mind, but she ignored it. Fred had asked her a question. "Well, I've always imagined that George's kisses would be slow and deep, the kind where you forget to breathe and nearly pass out from their intensity, whilst Fred's would be wild and abandoned – I'd be pressed up against a door or a wall and would end up with lots of red marks on my neck." She paused, unaware of the dreamy smile on her face or Fred and George's equally pink ears. "I suppose my favourite daydream is of the two of you sharing me." She finished as she turned and looked at both of them. The voice at the back of her mind seemed louder now but she still ignored it.

"Sh-sharing us?" asked George, sounding oddly strained.

"Mmm," sighed Hermione, "sharing me during sex. All three of us naked and climaxing together. I often imagine it when I make myself come."

A crash sounded as George's butterbeer slipped from his fingers. "Shit," he whispered, deliberately not looking at Fred. "She's going to kill us when this wears off."

"Yes, but she said _I'm_ the one who's like Han Solo."

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**Author's Note: Hello all, this is my first foray into the world of fanfiction! I have no idea where this story will go, but I'm having fun writing it. Let me know what you think :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is awesome - I don't own anything.**

Chapter 2

Death would be a far more pleasant alternative to going into work today, thought Hermione.

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"_WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?'_

"_Veritaserum combined with an inverse love po- ow! Stop hexing me, Hermione!"_

"_I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS – YOU NO GOOD, IMBECILIC, ARROGANT-"_

"_I think it's worn off, Fred,"_

"_I'd – ow! I said stop hexing me! – I'd agree with you there, George."_

"_-BLOODY, FOUL-SMELLING SWINES, PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR-"_

"_I think it still needs work though, George. What's the point of a lust-revealing philter if the person sounds so very clinical and uninter- Merlin's sake, Hermione, can't you hex George as well!?"_

"_She knows I'm the nicer twin, far more handsome and- ow! Hermione! I can't believe Ginny taught you that one, traitor sister!"_

"_-WILL FEED BOTH YOUR MANHOODS TO THE GOATS SO HELP ME-"_

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Yes, death. It was clear. Tea and cake with the Weasley twins as they sorted out this whole shrinking sweet mess, or death: anyone in their right mind would choose death. Hermione groaned and pulled her pillow over her head, trying to block out the voice of Petroc Trelawny on BBC Radio 3's breakfast show. Shostakovich before 9am was always a bad idea.

She'd been so mortified she hadn't even bothered to respond to their owl saying they'd pop in to St. Mungo's to clear everything up with Anaxos. She wasn't sure which was worse, the twins knowing that she fancied and fantasized about them, or that they knew that she liked to..._to_ _masturbate_. She couldn't even think the word without blushing. Well, so much for visiting the Burrow ever again.

After showering and eating breakfast, Hermione marched over to her wardrobe and fished out her oldest and tattiest Healer's robe, which was now a slightly dingy lime green. It was meant to go to Mrs. Weasley so she could turn it into patches for a quilt, but it would be useful for today's encounter. She drew out a beat up pair of old shoes as well and tied her hair back roughly without bothering to brush it. She checked herself in the mirror and winced. Her hair was a mess and the robes looked truly awful. She hadn't become vain since leaving Hogwarts, but she did enjoy looking polished and professional. However, she thought to herself, squaring her shoulders and glaring sternly at her reflection in the mirror, best to send a very clear signal to the twins today. With that thought in mind, she scooped up her purse, kissed Crookshanks goodbye, and apparated to the reception area of St. Mungo's.

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"Ron!? What are you doing here?"

The lanky redhead turned, raising his eyebrows as he took in Hermione's appearance. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Sorry, bad morning," Hermione huffed. "But seriously, what brings you to St. Mungo's? No one's hurt, are they?"

"No, no – I'm here for the twins. They told me what happened to the Spavin boy and I asked if I could be the Auror assigned to investigate." He smiled and stooped slightly to give her a one-armed hug.

Hermione gave Ron a tight smile in return and sighed inwardly. Even on a good day, she had a hard time being completely comfortable with Ron. They'd gotten together after the war but had broken up during their respective apprenticeships. It had been mutual and amicable, but Hermione still had trouble recapturing their easygoing friendship. She just couldn't ignore they'd been intimate, physically and emotionally, and it was hard to be around him without feeling echoes of the same feelings. Being in the same room with him and the twins would be great, juuuuust great.

Out of herself, Ron and Harry, Ron had changed the most after Voldemort's defeat. He'd finally grown into his frame and his resemblance to Bill was striking. He'd kept his goofy charm, but Auror training had sharpened his dry wit and toughened him up. Gone was the boyish awkwardness, replaced instead with an aura of confidence.

"Well hello there, if it isn't our favourite test subject."

Hermione froze. She could feel the blush working its way up from her toes, could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She carefully extricated herself from Ron's hug, but remained with her back to the twins, forcing herself to breathe normally.

Ron gave her an odd look. "Uh, you okay 'Mione?"

"I'm fine," she ground out, "just fine." Slowly, she turned around, keeping her gaze averted. "Follow me," she growled, and stomped away without looking to see if they were indeed following. She led them past the Inquiries desk emblazoned with the crossed wand and bone, then down a white hallway to the lifts. As they stepped into an open one, Fred and George, whom she continued to ignore, inched around to stand behind Hermione, flanking her on either side. She stiffened as she sensed the body heat radiating from both of them. It also felt like the one on her left was blowing gently on her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She nearly jumped when the lift panel coughed.

"Floor number, please," it asked in a tired-sounding voice.

"Fo- fourth floor," she managed to get out, her voice cracking partway through. Damn the twins. The lift lurched to the right and hands shot out on either side of her as she stumbled. They seemed to burn through her clothes where they gripped her arms.

"Steady, Hermione, wouldn't want to end up against a wall," snickered the one to her left. Fred, she thought.

"Or on the floor," added the other twin in a low voice by her right ear. Hermione's insides melted, heating with both lust and rage. Her breath hitched, and she alternated between wanting to kiss or smack them both senseless. But, the floor, oh God, _the floor_. She was definitely going to write about this in her diary later this evening.

Ron was facing her and she saw him frowning at the twins. "Have I missed something?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Nope," replied the twins together, releasing her. Hermione could practically hear their oh-so-innocent expressions.

"It's nothing," snapped Hermione, feeling almost disappointed at the loss of contact. She pushed past Ron when the lift doors opened and led them down another white hallway past the Janus Thickey ward until they reached the central reception area. Anaxos was already there, flicking his wand to sort through the current patient files. He looked up when he heard their approach. His lips tightened almost imperceptibly at Hermione's disheveled appearance as he stepped around the counter, hand outstretched.

"Ah, Misters Weasley. Plivinius Anaxos, at your service sirs." Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes – no one would have guessed he'd been raging against the twins only yesterday. He certainly could lay on the charm when he wanted. She liked working with Anaxos though; he was dedicated to his work and honest to a fault. Seeing him kiss up to the Weasleys was ridiculous and somewhat nauseating. She could see Ron failing to hide a self-satisfied grin – he wasn't quite as different from Percy as he liked to believe

Greetings exchanged, Anaxos guided them to an office room, complete with steaming cups of tea and cakes from the fifth floor tearooms. The office doubled as a potions store cupboard and was rather cramped but had a carved wooden table with several bright pink velvet armchairs around it that clashed alarmingly with lime green Healers robes. Hermione often wondered if prolonged exposure to magic rendered wizards and witches colourblind, or if magical Britons simply had bad taste. She deliberately took a seat between Ron and Anaxos.

It wasn't until she sat down that Hermione dared to look at Fred and George, and only because they were busy listening to Anaxos reciting the details of the Spavin boy's condition. They were dressed in complementary powder blue and gold brocade robes with a swirling paisley pattern. Their cloaks were made of the same fabric and lined with gold tassels. George was wearing his charmed ear and Fred had magically extended his hair so they were identical, but Hermione was pretty sure the one on the left was Fred. She was again struck by how an outfit that would be described as _fabulous, dahling_ in the muggle world was actually rather sexy in the wizarding world. Or maybe it was just the twins. As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, one of the twins – George, she thought – looked her way and winked. Hermione scowled fiercely, relieved that neither Ron nor Anaxos had noticed.

"So," Ron picked up when Anaxos finished, "you two had best tell us what you were developing so we can compare notes." He pulled an Auror edition quick quotes quill out of a pocket in his robes and set it on the parchment in front of him, snorting as Hermione fished out her notebook and pen. They'd had many lively debates about the merits of wizarding versus muggle devices and neither refused to deviate from their chosen implements. Harry sometimes joined the debates, but was more inclined to use magic than Hermione for everyday tasks.

"Well," began the twin Hermione was almost positive was George, "we started working on this idea in earnest about four months ago. We thought of it as a concept a while ago, but didn't actually do any research into it until early April. It's a slightly tricky one because it's a standard _Diminutio_ charm, but triggered by eating a sweet instead of actually casting the spell with a wand, so you have to create a potion to reproduce the effects..."

George continued speaking, becoming more animated as he talked about the theory underpinning the sweet. Fred leaned back lazily in his chair, seeming content to let George do all the talking. His eyes flicked over to Hermione, catching her covertly studying him. He gave her a wolfish grin as his eyes raked over her. Hermione flushed and almost missed what George was saying.

"Wait – what was that last ingredient?" she asked, leaning forwards with interest.

"Uhh... powdered Grindylow teeth. Why, did we do something wrong?"

Both twins stared intently at Hermione, all mischief gone from Fred's eyes, as she sucked on the end of her pen and gazed pensively into space, brow wrinkling in concentration. She finally shook her head in puzzlement. "No, you did everything right – that's what doesn't make sense." She looked over at Anaxos for confirmation, Ron and the twins swiveling their heads to look at the healer as well. "What they've just described – that would have worked perfectly, wouldn't it?"

Anaxos nodded slowly, tapping his forefinger on his mustachioed upper lip. "Did you have an earlier version where you used the scale of a Ukranion Ironsnout instead of one from a Chinese Fireball?"

"No," said Fred vehemently. "The results would have been catastrophic, the shrinking would have occurred unevenly and..." he trailed off, understanding flashing across his features. "That's what caused this, isn't it? It's the exact same potion with one wrong ingredient, almost as if-"

"As if someone was brewing the potion and got it wrong," finished Ron.

"Oi, you're not supposed to finish his sentences – that's my job!" quipped George in mock indignation. Ron snorted. In spite of her anger and embarrassment Hermione almost laughed. Fred's eyes flicked her way again, a small smirk at the corner of his lips. Hermione dropped her gaze to her lap, frowning. "-need to check the shop, see if anything's been disturbed from the back rooms," George was saying.

"So," Ron theorised aloud, "someone just stole your potion recipe to make it themselves, didn't have the right sort of dragon scale on hand, and what, just used another one?" He blew out a breath in frustration. "That's just bloody stupid, makes no sense." He turned to Anaxos, "Do we know where the boy got this sweet – I mean, did he nick the recipe? Maybe he's got posh parents who happen to own most of the potion ingredients and he-"

"Oh honestly, Ron!" snapped Hermione. "Don't be daft – that's absurd."

"Who spit in your tea?" Ron asked, brows raised.

"Unfortunately," Anaxos shot Hermione a warning look from beneath his thick brows as he cut in, "the boy will likely be unable to answer those questions for a few more days. He's been administered several sleeping potions whilst he heals."

"Right," said Ron, standing and gathering up parchments and quill, "as far as I can see my brothers likely didn't have anything to do with this mess except for being absolutely pants at locking spells," Fred flashed Ron a rude gesture out of Anaxos' sight, "so I won't be filing a report about them and I'll ask that you," this last directed at Anaxos, "send me an owl when the boy wakes so I can ask him a few questions." He nodded to Fred, George, and Hermione, shook Anaxos' hand again and exited the office. Hermione stood as well, self-consciously smoothing her robes. Maybe she'd taken the wrong tack. Maybe she should have worn her regular robes to show she didn't care what the twins thought, wasn't at all affected by the previous night's events. Too late now; she fisted her hands in the sides of her robes to keep from fidgeting, very carefully not meeting Fred or George's eyes.

'Well, thank you for your visit," Anaxos was saying. "Your work is more fascinating than I would have credited. I might just pop in next time I'm in Diagon Alley, my niece will be attending Hogwarts next year."

"Make sure to say hello when you do, and we also have a shop in Hogsmeade if you're ever there."

"Hermione, would you show the Misters Weasley to the lifts? I'll meet you back here to discuss the day's patients."

Hermione pasted a fake smile onto her face. "Certainly" Anaxos frowned at her again, but she was already turning towards the door.

They were flanking her again, and following far too closely. She could once again feel the heat radiating from them. Staring straight ahead, she missed the look the twins shared before they both reached out and placed a hand on her shoulders. She froze, again feeling as if their hands were burning through her clothes.

"Hermione, wait-

"-we just wanted to let you know-

"-that we're very sorry. We never meant-"

"-to invade your privacy like that."

"We promise to forget the whole thing," they finished together. Hermione spun around, glaring. The one who she was almost positive was George actually looked apologetic; Fred looked anything but. She narrowed her eyes and considered for a long moment.

"Fine," she looked George in the eyes, "apology accepted." She turned towards Fred, "apology _not_ accepted."

"What!?"

"Come back and apologize when you really mean it! Now, I think you two know perfectly well where the lifts are located, I'm going back to work." And with that, she marched off, leaving one twin staring after her in indignation and the other grinning smugly at his twin.

"Ha! Take that, Han Solo – told you she knows I'm the nicer-"

"Oh, shut it!"

Hermione found Anaxos waiting for her, hands clasped in front of him, lips twitching in disapproval underneath his mustache.

She sighed, "Forgive me, I've not been very professional this morning. I don't have a good reason, but I apologize."

Anaxos looked down at her sternly for a while longer before nodding in acceptance of her apology.

"If I may," Hermione began tentatively, "you seemed to have changed your mind about the Weasleys – yesterday you seemed keen on shutting them down. What changed?"

Anaxos cleared his throat self-consciously. "I may have been... somewhat hasty in forming my judgment. I reviewed the files on all the patients who had been treated for similar mix-ups with spelled sweets or joke items. Upon closer examination, none of them were in any way the Weasleys' fault. And speaking with them today was certainly fascinating. They are... impressively clever. Is it really true they only have three O.W.L.s between them?"

Hermione chuckled, "yes it's true. They've always been insanely clever, but never really saw the point in examinations. I think they also enjoyed winding up their mum."

"Well, they seem like good men."

"Yes, they are." And it was true, Hermione thought to herself. However... exposed and mortified she might feel, they were good men and their intent hadn't been malicious. Always mischievous, never malicious – it could almost be their motto. It wasn't exactly their fault she fancied them. Maybe she was being a bit too hard on Fred. Maybe... but there was no reason to tell him so.

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"This is a bad idea."

"It's a wonderful idea, don't you want to know what she writes?"

"Well, yeah, but this is still a bad idea."

"Aw, come on! Besides, this will be a perfect way to test if the Reveal-O-Parchment works over long distances."

"We really need to work on that name, it's rubbish."

"Must've been your idea then. Well, shall we?"

"Fine, fine, have it your way, Han Solo. But when she finds out, I just want to make sure we both remember that I said it was a bad idea."

"She won't find out. How could she possibly find out?"

"It's Hermione, she'll find out. "

"Whatever." Fred rolled his eyes and tapped his wand on the blank parchment in front of them. "Look, she's already started writing!"

Identical red heads bent forward to read the neatly looping script.

_-lift doors rolled shut. Immediately, hands grabbed her from all sides, and a mouth pressed hot kisses to the side of her neck, biting and sucking just underneath her jaw line before working down to the join of her shoulder and neck. Hands were removing her robes, the sound of tearing fabric filling the air until she was clothed only in her silk nightdress. The lips at her throat moved down her chest to suck at one of her raised nipples through the thin fabric. Her low moan was cut off as Fred, no, George kissed her lips, lightly teasing at first and then pressing more firmly as she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to sweep across hers. She entwined a hand in each set of red hair. Someone's hand reached up to rub lightly across her other nipple, whilst another hand reached downwards to squeeze her arse. Heat rushed between her legs and she leaned against Fred to keep from falling over as her knees buckled. Another hand began skimming slowly up her inner thigh, tracing circles as she moaned against George's mouth and..._

_I might have to finish this one in my bedroom._

The twins sat frozen in silence, eyes wide, three ears flaming red.

"Excuse me," they said at the same time, jumping up and looking anywhere but at each other. Silently, they both crossed the lounge quickly and each headed into their own bedroom, the doors shutting with firm clicks behind them.

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

**Author's Note: This is so much fun! What do you think of Ron – too out of character or believably matured?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is awesome - I don't own anything.**

Chapter 3

George contemplated his twin. Fred was staring off into space yet again, lost in thought, looking slightly peeved, and completely oblivious to the young girl who was trying to get his attention. He'd been distracted and moody ever since their encounter with Hermione two days before. George had almost felt sorry for him and was tempted to forgo rubbing her acceptance of his apology in Fred's face. But George never let temptation stand in the way of brotherly banter.

"Oi, plonker," he whispered, flicking a mild stinging hex at Fred, "no mooning off in front of the customers." Fred started and glared at his brother before turning to the young girl with an exaggerated smile. George continued to observe him, idly scratching at the side of his head where the charmed ear fastened to his skull. Nobody else would notice that anything was off, thought George, as Fred rattled off his sales patter to the wide-eyed children who hung on his every word. To an outside observer, Fred seemed his usual cheery self – but George could sense his inner disquiet. George was surprised Fred was so torn up about it – Hermione would come 'round, she always did. She was almost incapable of living in disharmony with her friends. He would have almost believed her unable to feel hatred, had he not witnessed otherwise during the war. Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange... fleetingly, he wondered if Hermione still bore the scar Bellatrix had given her, trying to remember when he's last seen her with her forearms bared. He grimaced at the thought and discarded it – not his affair.

Turning from Fred, George cast his eye over the shop with a pleased grin. Even mum had grudgingly admitted she was proud of their success and almost managed to turn a blind eye whenever Fred and George turned up to a family meal missing eyebrows or with magically altered hair colours. It happened less these days – he and Fred had finally decided to take a course in basic mediwizarding and it had unquestionably been one of their better decisions. At present the shop was filled with inquisitive and mischievous young wizards and witches clamouring to get their hands on props for pranks – as it should be. George looked over at his twin again and frowned – Fred had finished helping the small girl and was staring into space again, sighing.

It wasn't until they were closing up the shop that George had a chance to ask Fred what was going on. "What's got you so down, then?"

"Nothing," Fred answered, shrugging casually. Too casually. "I'm fine, just tired."

"You forget, brother mine, I know your face – that's not what we look like when we're tired. Nor do we usually stare off into space and sigh like Ginny when she's dreaming of Harry."

Fred gave a weak laugh. "Well, just, working on a new idea then."

"Bollocks," shot George. "This is about Hermione, isn't it? You're still pissed she hasn't forgiven you." Fred tightened his lips but didn't answer. "Why does it bother you so much? She'll come 'round soon enough – she always does."

"Yeah, sure," Fred nodded, still looking glum though as he flicked his wand at the fake wands display. George's eyebrows lifted slightly – Fred sulked from time to time, but was hardly ever this surly.

"Seriously mate, it's Hermione – have you ever known her to hold a grudge? She'll probably tell Gin the whole story. They'll rage, then cry, then laugh, and do whatever else they do during their girly sessions, and then twist the story to make us look bad, tell it at dinner, mum will kill us and then it will all be fine."

"Yeah, sure – fine." Fred threw his hands up in exasperation, jabbing his wand at another set of items so that they reshuffled themselves with several bangs.

"I'm telling you, Fred," continued George, laying a hand on his twin's shoulder, "it will all be fine-"

"Yeah, well what if it isn't!?" Fred spun around, knocking George's hand away and sending several small bottles flying. "What if she doesn't want to talk to m- us ever again? That was private stuff she told us, George. I can see why she might not want to spend time with us in future, apology or no – and she doesn't even know we spied on her diary!" He flushed angrily, not meeting George's gaze.

"It was a bad idea," George intoned solemnly. They'd tacitly agreed not to use the Reveal-O-Parchment to sneak peeks at Hermione's diary again. It had been a bit too much to handle.

"Ok, so it might be awkward around her for a while, but it will pass. Besides, it's not as if we're best mates or anything," George pressed on, slightly perplexed by the pained expression on Fred's face. He hadn't seen him looking like that since... since... George stopped, scrutinising his twin. No...

"No," he breathed, "no way."

Fred looked up sharply, eyes narrowing at George's smug look. "No," he said pointedly, jabbing a finger at his twin for emphasis. "Whatever you're thinking in that deranged, depraved head of yours, the answer is no, absolutely not."

George advanced on his twin slowly, eyes glinting. "Fred Weasley, I do believe you are smitten with one Hermione Granger! You sly devil."

Fred's ears flamed. "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "That's absurd." He turned away, flicking his wand at the shelf he had tidied ten seconds previously.

"You do, you _fancy_ her," George insisted, grinning at Fred's obvious embarrassment. "You are keen on our lovely-"

"She's not ours!" Fred yelled as he whirled suddenly, face tight. George's grin slipped. "She might have written about sharing us," they both dropped eye contact, "but that doesn't make her _ours_." He paused, hands fisting in his robes. "I don't like her or anything, but, if I did, I don't think I could share. Certainly not like... _that_." He paused, face screwing up in disgust. "It would be weird."

"Yeah, it would be off-putting – wouldn't want to see your ugly mug while doing that." George grimaced exaggeratedly.

"Don't do any kinky stuff with mirrors then," Fred shot back automatically. They both snorted and then stared into space, identical looks of concentration on their faces. Fred finally shrugged and looked at his brother. "Can't think of anything witty to say about the awkwardness of a threesome involving your twin either, can you?"

George shook his head. "Nope. I feel like I should be able to say something involving 'cock-ups' or 'limp' but nah, nothing's coming." Fred sniggered and George just smirked before looking at his twin seriously again.

"I think your next move is clear."

"Yeah," Fred sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. "Any idea what flowers she likes?"

"No idea. Bet Ron knows."

Fred winced. "Shit, I almost forgot about our baby brother. It's been years since they split, think he'll mind?"

"Probably," George answered seriously. Privately he doubted it; Ron had had a few girlfriends since Hermione. But watching Fred squirm was far too entertaining to spoil.

"Well... tough," Fred concluded. He looked at his twin, several emotions flitting across his features. "You don't mind, do you? I've, well, I've kind of been interested for a while now. I just didn't bother 'cause, well – it's Hermione. Hermione's not a girl you mess around – she doesn't really do casual, does she?" George laughed inwardly – Fred was clearly forgetting Hermione's flirtation with Viktor Krum, and definitely confusing 'monogamous' with 'not casual'.

Out loud though he answered, "Nah, I don't mind," clapping Fred on the back and ignoring the painful twinge in his chest at the lighthearted words.

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"So," finished Ginny breathlessly, eyes sparkling with excitement, "Harry asked me again... and I said yes!" She held her hands and arms outstretched, anxiously awaiting Hermione's response.

Hermione surged forward, hugging her friend tightly. "Finally! Oh, I'm so happy for you – that's amazing." She pulled back, holding Ginny at arms length and looking her in the eye. "You're absolutely sure? This is a big decision, and neither you nor Harry should rush into anything if you're not ready. If you need more time, he will wait." Well, Hermione hoped he would wait. She'd make him wait, if that was what it took.

"I'm sure. I've wanted to get back together for the past two months, but the team was in America and I wanted to be completely sure before I said anything."

Ginny and Harry had split after the battle of Hogwarts. They'd technically already been split, but had considered themselves emotionally together ever since their first kiss. After the traumatic events at Hogwarts they'd agreed neither of them wanted to rush into things. They didn't want to mistake post-war euphoria for anything more. Ginny in particular had wanted time to grow up and make sure her feelings for Harry weren't just a long-held schoolgirl crush. Hermione had always suspected privately Ginny's sudden burst of handling her relationship with Harry maturely was a result of heart-to-heart conversation with Tonks shortly before the auror's death. Harry had been too busy figuring out who he was without Voldemort to do anything but agree. Then they'd both gotten busy starting their respective careers and had hardly had time for seeing anyone romantically. Though they'd both managed to squeeze in a few exploits. Hermione would know – acting as confidante for the two of them was often awkward. Being sworn to absolute secrecy by both Harry and Ginny was irritating at times, though probably for the best. Harry would go mental if he found out about some of Ginny's more... deviant... adventures. And if Ron ever found out... well, Hermione would just keep her mouth shut. Her features softened at the thought of Ron. Being around him the other day at St. Mungo's hadn't been as difficult as it usually was. Likely, she'd been too distracted by avoiding the twins to really notice him. The thought of the twins reminded of her latest diary entry featuring the three of them in the lift, she might have to add to it later... She shook her head to dismiss the thought and turned back to Ginny to find the redhead examining her far too closely, eyes narrowed in suspicion. _Damn_.

"So," said Hermione brightly, "when are you going to tell your mum about you and Harry?" She doubted she would succeed in distracting Ginny, but it was worth a try. She summoned the wine bottle and glasses from the kitchen. She'd introduced Ginny to muggle wine a few years back and it had become a staple of their impromptu get-togethers.

"Oh no you don't," Ginny said, folding her arms and looking at Hermione expectantly. "I saw that look. You were thinking about a boy." _Boys_, Hermione corrected inwardly as she poured the wine. _Not just boys but also your twin brothers, Ron's twin brothers. Just plain inappropriate in so many ways._ "You haven't looked like that since you broke up with that muggle guy, Richard."

"I prefer the term non-magical person."

Ginny waved a hand dismissively as she accepted her wine. "Sure, sure. Bet you still say muggle in your head though." Hermione cringed; it was a hard habit to break. "_Anyway_," continued Ginny, leaning forward determinedly, "that's beside the point. Who is it, " she asked, emphasising every word.

"But, what about you and Harry?" Hermione pleaded weakly.

"We can wait. We're good at waiting," Ginny snickered. Hermione gave a chuckle as well before sighing and taking a large swallow of her wine. There wasn't really any point in trying to keep it from her red-haired friend anyway. Hermione certainly couldn't lie her way out of it, and Ginny was nothing if not persistent.

"Fine, fine," she huffed. Ginny grinned delightedly and tucked her feet beneath her on the sofa. "Well, you remember the thing I told you about once before – about me imagining being with... being with two guys," Hermione was staring at the floor, fighting down a blush. "Well, um, they may have... accidentally found out that I fancied them." Ginny's eyebrows rose slightly. "And they might have found out that I fancied them... _together_," Hermione finished in a strained whisper. Ginny's hand flew to her mouth, eyes brightening with mirth.

"Oh, Hermione," she began shakily, "oh, if you c-could only see," she gasped, trying to keep from grinning, "your- your face!" Ginny broke down in a fit of giggles then, laughing until she was clutching her sides and tears rolled down her face.

"It's not funny," Hermione growled, cheeks pinking. "It was awful – I was there when they found out. I just wanted to die. Or to kill them," a dark glint appeared in her eye, her hand absently fingering the pocket her wand was tucked into.

"I'm sorry," Ginny finally managed, wiping her face as her giggles subsided. "That does sound dreadful – but it is rather amusing, you have to see the funny side."

"That's such an American thing to say," Hermione groaned, but felt her mouth twitch despite herself.

Ginny took another sip of wine, eyeing Hermione over the glass. "So, are you going to tell me who it is- who they are?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nope, far too private and embarrassing." _And depraved, and wrong, and you'll kill me_, she added silently.

"How private can it possibly be if you're wannabe shag buddies already know?" Ginny scoffed. "Besides, I'm your best friend.

"Harry's my best friend."

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "Sure, 'cause you told him you fancy getting it on with two blokes at once. And I highly doubt you told Ron. How are things between you two anyway?"

"Better, I think. Or at least," Hermione tilted her head to one side, considering, "I think it will be better soon." She certainly hoped things would improve. It was ridiculous that she'd been unable to move on fully. She'd been in other relationships – longer and more serious relationships, but she seemed stuck on Ron. Apparently, being romantically interested whilst fighting to overthrow a Dark Lord left a somewhat more lasting connection than the average relationship.

"Anyway, back to the real question, which young blades does the young and innocent Hermione desire for her beaus?"

"You've been nicking my Georgette Heyer books again, haven't you?"

"I prefer the term borrowing, and quit stalling, Granger."

"Fine! But," she looked at her friend in apprehension. "you have to promise not to kill me. I know it's weird, and wrong even, but I really didn't plan on thinking about them that way, it just kind of happened, and I promise I won't do anything about it, I just sometimes enjoy thinking-"

"It's Fred and George, isn't it?"

"WHAT!? How could- I didn't even-" Hermione spluttered.

"I'm your best friend, remember?"

"Harry's my best friend," Hermione returned automatically in a faint voice.

"Whatever. Please, Hermione – I may not be the brightest witch of my age-"

"Don't call me that."

"-but I am rather savvy in my own way – and it's not that surprising _really_." Hermione just stared at Ginny, speechless. "When a girl fancies two blokes, the most likely scenarios are either twins or two blokes she already knows are mates. And since I knew it wasn't Ron or Harry – which, by the way, eurgh – I suspected it was the twins."

" 'Likely scenario' indeed. You just made that up."

"Nope," Ginny shook her head seriously," Witch Weekly made that up."

"What rubbish – that's absurd."

"Plus, Ron mentioned you were acting strangely around them the other day. I think 'a bit barmy' were his exact words."

"Charming as ever, I see." Hermione exhaled and collapsed back into the sofa. She shot Ginny a nervous look. "So is this where you tell me I'm depraved?"

"No, honestly I mostly just find it amusing. As long as I don't imagine the details," her face screwed up in distaste, "it's fine." She leaned forward eagerly. "So how did they find out? "I would have given a hundred galleons to see their faces."

"I didn't really appreciate it myself at the time, but it was good – I have never seen them so shocked," she giggled, and then frowned again. "But they're dead, so dead. I hope you enjoyed being their sister while they were around, because when I'm done with-"

Both witches jumped as a sharp crack sounded outside Hermione's door, followed by footsteps and a hesitant knock.

Ginny smiled brightly, "you didn't tell me you invited Luna."

"I did but she couldn't make it – something about nargles, crumple-horned-snorcacks and something called a scamander," Hermione said absently as she rose and headed to the door.

"Haven't heard of that last one before."

Hermione pointed her wand at the door, "_Transperum_." The door shimmered and became translucent, revealing a very nervous-looking Fred standing on the other side, holding a bunch of red flowers and tugging at his collar.

Ginny gave a shout of laughter. "Hermione Granger, you minx!"

"No, no, no, no, no! It's- it's not what you- I had no idea-" she broke off, face paling as she looked rapidly between Ginny and the door. "What should I do?"

"Answer the door, you muppet. I can go-"

"No! You don't understand. I haven't told you the full story yet! I'm still really angry with them – well, just Fred really, but-"

"You should do this." Ginny stood and waved Hermione towards the door. "It's fine, I can leave-"

"No, don't!" Hermione lunged for her friend, gripping her arm. "Please don't leave me, just- oh, here," she tapped Ginny with her wand, casting a disillusionment charm. She heard the other witch giggle and step away. Hermione quickly checked herself in the mirror by the door, patting down her bushy hair and desperately trying to compose her features. Before she could think about it too much, she opened the door.

"Hi."

"Hermione! Uh, fancy seeing you here." Hermione saw Fred cringe even as he said it, and could hear Ginny sniggering faintly behind her. She would have laughed at his nervousness herself except her own legs were shaking. He suddenly seemed to remember the flowers he was holding and thrust them forward. "Here – for you." Hermione almost took them before recalling her anger. Instead, she took a step back, folding her arms and pursing her lips. Fred's face fell and she had to stop herself from stepping forward again and simply taking the flowers.

"Hermione," he began earnestly, "I am so sorry about the other day. How was I supposed to know you – er, I mean," he backtracked hastily at her thunderous expression, "that is, I'm sorry we- _I_ didn't ask you before spiking your drink. It was," he frowned for a moment, as if trying to find the right words, "inconsiderate and I wanted to apologize. Forgive me?"

Hermione couldn't help smiling then, he looked so vulnerable and lost, blue eyes gazing into hers imploringly, the red poppies – her favourite – extended hopefully. Silently she reached forward to take them, ducking her face to smell them and to hide the blush staining her cheeks.

"Apology accepted," she said at last, looking up again. Fred let out a breath of relief. "Thanks for the flowers, they're lovely."

"Anytime," Fred winked, his normal cheeky self returning. "May I come in?"

"Oh!" She had completely forgotten Ginny. "Actually I've got, er, stuff to do... for work."

"You truly are a terrible liar." He raised a hand as she opened her mouth in protest. "It's ok, I'll let you get on." He moved to leave, then turned back, looking nervous again. "Um, would you like to go to dinner with me? Tomorrow, maybe?" He tugged at his collar again.

Was he asking her out? Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and she could almost hear Ginny frantically gesturing behind her. "Yes," she answered decisively after a long pause, "I'd like that."

Excellent – I'll owl you the details."

"Great."

She inhaled sharply as Fred stepped forward quickly; his hands reaching up to gently squeeze both her arms as he planted a swift kiss on her cheek.

" 'Night, Hermione." Fred stepped back, beaming, and disapparated with a loud pop.

Hermione stood frozen for a moment, jumping when her arm was pinched. "Ow! Ginny!" She removed the disillusionment charm to find Ginny practically hopping with glee.

"I have never seen Fred so nervous before! Ooh – he must fancy the pants off you – literally!"

Hermione flushed and ducked her head to sniff the poppies again.

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

George carefully locked his door before walking to the desk and setting down the blank parchment. Biting his lip, he took a deep breath and tapped the yellowed paper with his wand. It was another 20 minutes before a glowing script appeared.

_Fred asked me out to dinner! I still can't believe he did that – and I can't believe I said yes_.

A long pause followed, during which George watched the parchment anxiously, chewing on his lower lip. Finally, more writing appeared.

_This could work – maybe. I don't know, really – there are so many things that could go wrong, not to mention the whole Ron issue. But still, this could be good. All he did tonight was kiss me on the cheek. It was completely chaste, and yet it sent tingles all the way down to my toes. I can't wait for dinner tomorrow. Maybe he'll kiss me again-_

George yelled an oath and angrily swept the parchment off the desk. Resting his elbows on the grainy wood he dropped his head into his hands with a groan of frustration.

"Bollocks."

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

**Author's Note: I said this would be FredxHermionexGeorge, and that's still the plan – but Fred and George may need some time to get used to the idea :) Thank you to everyone who's been reading this so far!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is awesome - I don't own anything.**

Chapter 4

Hermione was pleased to be working the day shift this week – the night shift on a Friday was brutal. It seemed wizards were no different from mugg- _non-magical persons_ when it came to saving their shenanigans for the weekend. However, Friday's day shift was generally no more stressful than usual. She nodded to Laura at the enquiries desk before taking the lift to the fourth floor. Anaxos was waiting for her, smoothing his mustache absently as he frowned over a parchment. He looked up as she arrived, wordlessly handing over a thick stack of files. Hermione made a small sound of distaste as she opened the topmost file – magical pictures of ill patients seemed entirely unnecessary.

"Why am I looking at a case of spattergroit? Surely that belongs on the second floor, if not at their own home in quarantine." Hermione started to skim the notes made in Anaxos' cramped and untidy hand.

"Shall I let you read on or shall I just tell you?"

"Tell me," she replied absently, still skimming the patient notes.

"Seems the lad was in an altercation of sorts in Sauchie Lane-"

"That's like Diagon Alley, but in Glasgow, right?"

"Yes. Anyway, seems like he and a few wizards visiting from Portugal had a few pints too many, which degenerated into an altercation over something nobody appears to remember." Hermione snorted; they received similar pub-brawl related spell damage cases every week. "One thing led to another, wands were pulled, and our patient ended up on the receiving end of a very nasty curse that causes spattergroit – or at the very least, the symptoms of spattergroit. No one believed him at first, and no one would get close enough to verify his claim that it was caused by a spell, but I have diagnosed him and it was indeed caused by a curse. Fascinating, actually" 

"Potuguese, you say?"

"Indeed – you'll find a file from the MLE department in there as well; interview with the bystanders and the wizard who cast the curse, thankfully. They can't do anything about it, of course, the-"

"International Statute for Secrecy states that wizards cannot be detained outside their own country for anything less than a forbidden curse or acting with intent to kill – but spattergroit _can_ be fatal. Surely-"

"I think the MLE doesn't want to borrow trouble – they're still hunting a few Death Eaters." Anaxos cleared his throat, sounding disapproving. "No matter, we at St. Mungo's will remain professional at least. I was thinking you could do the research on this one – if you can't find anything here I don't mind if you head to Hogwarts, Inquiries can give you a portkey as usual. Be back here at four'o'clock, though. The Spavin boy is awake and Auror Weasley will be visiting then to ask him a few questions."

"Right. And the others?" Hermione flicked through the other files.

"Standard charms and curses, but with some confusing variations – your specialty." Hermione smiled; admitting that someone might be more qualified than himself was the closest Anaxos ever got to a compliment. Even now the fierce wizard was looking distinctly uncomfortable with his admission.

"I'll let you know if I need any help," Hermione said soothingly, earning her a near smile from Anaxos. The dark blond wizard smoothed his mustache contentedly, mollified. She made a quick stop to the office to gather an extra notebook and some pens – she often wondered how she had survived Hogwarts without pens – and took the lift to the seventh floor library.

Hermione breathed in deeply as she arrived, reveling in the scent of hundreds of thousands of books. The St. Mungo's library was vast, employing the use of many undetectable extension charms to house every known book pertaining to magical maladies. The central rectangular room was half a mile long with twenty wings, ten on each side. The high arched ceiling some 30 feet above was much like the ceiling in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, but depicted scenes from the ocean instead of the sky. Presently, large schools of fish swam in bright flashes of colour, darting in and out of distinctly tropical coral beds. This was one of the more common ceiling views, though she'd seen shipwrecks, deep-sea ocean beds, and whale pods before as well. Hermione wasn't sure what whimsy had led to the ceiling, but she loved it anyway despite of the absurdity of a water ceiling atop a library. Bookshelves extended from floor to ceiling, arranged into archways over the entrances to each wing and rounded into columns on either side. The floor was richly carpeted with a repeating pattern of St. Mungo's wand and bone insignia and subtly reflected the undulating water patterns from the ceiling. Large carved wooden desks with small lamps floating above them were scattered throughout the central hall.

By the entrance was a sign that read:

_NO Apparating in the library_

_NO eating or drinking without first casting a semi-imperturbable charm_

_NO wandering unattended in the library, please use the chairs provided_

To the left was a row of high-backed plushy purple armchairs arranged like a line of shopping trolleys, each facing towards the back of the library. Hermione seated herself in the front most armchair, settled her handbag in her lap and slid open a small compartment in one of the armrests to reveal what looked like a small golden clock, but instead of pointing at numbers the hand pointed at small boxes with written sets of instructions. At the moment the hand pointed to tiny script that read:

_Please write down what you wish to search for, fold the paper twice and push it through the slot provided. _

Hermione wrote _spattergroit curse_ and _Portuga_l on a small slip of paper, folded it twice and slid it into the gold-plated slot below the clock face. A whirring noise sounded, followed by a small click. She grasped the armrests tightly as the armchair shot forwards and upwards off the ground, stopping abruptly near the top of the third column of books. She transfigured one of her pens into a large hanging basket that she affixed to the other armrest and carefully took the three books that were illuminated by a soft, glowing purple light, placing them gently into the pen-basket. She gripped the armrests again as the chair sped off. The chair stopped twice more before taking Hermione and seven books to rest in front of a large wooden desk. She stacked the books on one side of the desk and spelled them with a modified imperturbable charm before pulling a mug out of her bag and conjuring some tea. She sipped it pleasurably, savouring the quiet moment. Being a healer was challenging, stressful and emotionally draining. Most days it made Hogwarts look like a cakewalk, and some days it even made defeating Voldemort feel easy in comparison. She'd spent six years in Healer training after returning to Hogwarts and completing a seventh year. She'd also enrolled in a six-year course training as a mug- _non-magical_ doctor, using a time turner in order to complete the two courses simultaneously. She never wanted to taste an anti-age potion ever again. The training for both had been incredibly demanding, and Hermione had realized that she hadn't actually learned how to truly _work_ whilst at Hogwarts. Being smart could sometimes be a disadvantage. Rigourous as the training was, it hadn't fully prepared her for the gritty realities of life as a healer. Moments like these in the library reminded Hermione how much she loved what she did – how good it felt to find answers and fix things. She pulled the first book down from her small stack and started reading chapter titles.

Four hours and 18 books later, Hermione yawned and stretched. She'd worked through all the patient files, owling Anaxos with her findings as she'd reached them. She flicked her wand at the books on the desk and they flapped off back to their positions on the shelves. She sat back in the armchair and twisted the dial in the centre of the clock face so the hands pointed at tiny script reading: _Done for today_. The chair took off again, parking itself at the back of the queue of armchairs and Hermione slid out, stretching again.

Hermione was waiting for Ron when he arrived. She smiled brightly at him and walked him over to the bed occupied by the Spavin boy.

"Hello, Edmund," she said gently to the wide-eyed boy who was looking fearfully at Ron. "This is Auror Weasley. He's going to ask you a few questions about what happened to you. You're not in any trouble," she continued, seeing the boy swallow nervously, "he just needs to know what happened so he can keep other people from getting sick. I'm going to stay here, if that's alright with you?" The boy nodded quickly, looking extremely relieved.

Ron sat at the foot of the bed. "Hi mate, I'm Ron," he said, extending his hand and grinning at the boy. "Fancy a game of wizard chess?" They boy's eyes widened again, this time with excitement. Hermione smiled inwardly as Ron set up the game, pulling out a bag of Bertie's – trust Ron to use chess and food to put the boy at ease. She continued watching as they played, the boy shedding his shyness as he became absorbed in the game, distractedly answering the careful questions Ron asked in between moves and game play tips. It transpired the boy had been in Diagon Alley, and had actually gone to Fred and George's shop to purchase a few fake wands, before being accosted by a 'man with more sweets'.

"Did this bloke have a name?" Ron was studying the board, scowling at the pieces as he slowly lost. Hermione was fairly sure it was all an act on his part, though she'd never been much good at chess herself, wizard or otherwise. Edmund was screwing up his face as he contemplated his next move, sticking out his tongue as one of Ron's pieces called him an especially foul name. Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron, who gave her a level stare in return as his ears slowly reddened.

"Said his name was Freddie Fred Fred the Weasel," piped the boy. Hermione breathed in sharply but remained silent at a warning look from Ron.

"That's a rather silly name," Ron observed casually, as if it were of no consequence. "What did he look like?"

The boy shrugged, "Dunno really." He ate a bean. "Mm, watermelon."

"Remember what colour his hair was?"

"Sort of brown, maybe."

"Not like mine then."

The boy looked at Ron for a moment then rolled his eyes and laughed vigorously as if Ron had said the funniest thing, "no. Not – at – all."

They talked for a while longer and finished the game. Ron won, but made it seem like he only just managed to win. They said their goodbyes to Edmund and made their way back to the floor's central desk.

"Well, looks like Fred and George definitely didn't have anything to do with it after all," Ron observed.

"But it almost sounds as if someone wanted people to think they did," Hermione frowned, "except... well, what was the point? They couldn't have honestly thought Fred and George would have been blamed for it?"

"If the kid had died from the sweet and all he managed to say before snuffing it was _Freddie Fred Fred the Weasel_ and _Diagon Alley_, who knows what might have happened. They probably wouldn't have gone to Azkaban, but who knows how badly it could have damaged their business." He shrugged, looking around the desk. "Got anything to eat? More cake, maybe?"

Hermione shook her head in mock disgust. "How can you possibly speak of a child dying and ask for cake in the same breath?" Nevertheless, she summoned the cake platter and two plates.

"I'm sure I breathed between those two thoughts."

Hermione chuckled and they ate cake silently for a minute. "I'm surprised you're so casual about the whole thing."

"It's just cake, I don't-"

"No," she cut him off with an exasperated look. "I mean about your family, Fred and George. I would have thought you'd be more upset about a possible threat."

Ron wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "A threat, really? I dunno. This just seems too pathetic really to be a serious threat."

"That boy almost died – I'd call that serious."

"Not the boy," he frowned at her. "That's not what I meant. This just seems too... indirect."

"Ooh," Hermione's brows rose in mock surprise, "look at you, using big words."

"Ha, bloody ha. Anyway, this doesn't feel like a threat, just some nutter targeting kids."

"I see what you mean, but still, it doesn't quite add up." Ron tilted his head in thought and she continued, "I mean, the guy who gave Edmund the sweet sounds a bit, er,-"

"Barmy, loopy, deranged, mad as a bleeding hatter?" Ron supplied helpfully.

"-mentally unstable," Hermione said acerbically, "but whomever altered the potion recipe was clearly intelligent enough to understand what they were doing. Or was incredibly lucky." She paused, thinking. "Or unlucky? What if they were trying to make something else happen instead, but got it wrong – what would they be trying to do, and why would they want to implicate Fred and George? Maybe I'll look at that potion recipe again and just see-"

"Oi, 'Mione!" Ron snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Don't go library mode on me just yet." Hermione tried to purse her lips but couldn't help giving a small smile. "You think maybe it was two geezers then that did this?"

Hermione grimaced. "I don't know what to think, but it's probably worth considering as a hypothesis-"

"Small words, please."

Hermione laughed then, a full-throated laugh that shook her insides. Ron was looking at her in mild amusement and with some confusion. She waved helplessly at him, smiling broadly. "It feels good to do that. I- I haven't-"

Ron shushed her and wrapped both arms around her in a tight embrace.

"S'okay," he said gently. "It- it's just good to have one of my best friends back."

Hermione laughed again weakly, blinking fiercely against the prickling of tears at the back of her eyes. "Yeah, well," she said, pushing him away, "sorry I took so long."

"No worries," Ron offered nonchalantly, spreading his hands wide, "What can I say? I'm just too studly to handle."

Hermione laughed and whacked his arm lightly. "Yes, that was it. I was just mourning the loss of your eminently virile presence."

"Speaking of men in your life," Ron said, taking another piece of cake as he fixed Hermione with a knowing look, "what's this about you and Fred and dinner?

"How do you- Ginny told you, didn't she! Well, that's the last time I ever invite her over again!" Hermione exhaled in annoyance, then turned and looked at Ron cautiously. "Do you – do you mind?"

"No, not really." Ron shrugged. "It's a bit strange, I guess, but more because it's you and Fred, not really anything to do with the fact that we snogged or anything. Though," his eyes lit up, "if Fred asks, tell him I'm the better snogger."

"We're not! I'm not- it's- hmph!" Hermione growled in frustration, blushing furiously. "It's just dinner, and I'm not discussing it with you or anyone. Who else knows?"

"Just Harry, I think. I only know because Ginny told him. She'd never tell me stuff like that – apparently I'm the enemy. Or something. So yeah - you and Fred: not really that weird. Ginny and Harry: really weird. Still not sure I should have said yes to that-"

"It's really not your place to give permission. Ginny is perfectly capable of making her own decisions and-"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron flapped a hand carelessly, "that's what she says. Or at least, that's probably what she says. I don't really listen to her when she gets all screamy – females, bleurgh." He shuddered.

"I'm a female!"

"Nah, you don't count – friends don't count."

"It's a good thing we stopped seeing each other when we did, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ron squinted questioningly at her. "No? Maybe! I quite agree with you, my dear."

"Well, if you're just going to be childish I'll leave you to it – I have work to do," Hermione sniffed.

Ron smirked. "Have fun at dinner."

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

Fred was nervous. Except he wasn't, not really, Fred Weasley _never_ got nervous. Fred Weasley had never been nervous, never would be nervous. Fred Weasley didn't even know what being nervous felt like, he could only imagine what other, lesser beings felt when they were nervous.

"Nervous?" asked George.

"_No."_

George gave one of his annoying I-am-obvously-the-better-twin smiles. Fred sent a mild stinging hex his brother's way... well, maybe not so mild.

"Oi!" George yelped and glared but didn't bother retaliating. _That's right, know your place, minion, retaliating is useless._ _Smug bastard – maybe not a bastard because that would be complicated, but smug: smug minion. That's right minion, kneel to your master, the glorious Fred Weasley, who is not nervous, who is going out to dinner with Hermione Granger. Who would be nervous around Hermione Granger? She was just a bushy-haired witch who's a bit bossy. Just a bushy-haired witch who's a bit bossy, and freakishly intelligent, and kind of amazingly beautiful, and rather lovely, and would probably look amazing stark naked and tangled up in sheets or no sheets just after being rogered senseless and-_

"Fred, you 'right, mate?"

"I'm fine – I already told you, I'm not nervous!" Fred Weasley _never_ got nervous. Fred Weasley didn't even... Fred Weasley, Fred _Weasley_. _What sort of a ridiculous name was Fred Weasley anyway? Who wouldn't laugh at a name like Fred Weasley?_

"Fred?"

"Fine, George, you win, I'm nervous! And what kind of a name is Fred Weasley anyway? Who made that decision?"

"I did – had to get an advantage somehow, seeing as how we look alike. Thought I'd at least get the better name."

Fred chuckled weakly and looked fondly at his twin before turning back to the mirror to adjust his hair again. "She's not going to laugh at me, or yell at me, or tell me I'm an idiot, or tell me she can't stand my name, or anything like that, is she? It's all in my head?"

"She probably is going to do all of that – if she hasn't already – but I doubt she'll do it tonight."

"Thanks, mate – helpful, that is, helpful." Fred turned away from the mirror to look at George. George was absently twirling his wand in his fingers, looking pensively at the coffee table. "You 'right, mate?" An indefinable emotion flicked across George's face briefly as he looked up and nodded. Fred forgot his nervousness momentarily as he canted his head and studied his twin. "Sure?"

"Yeah – just thinking; ideas for the shop and whatnot." George sighed, swiped a hand across his face, stood and lightly punched Fred's arm as he walked towards his own bedroom. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah," Fred agreed shakily as he turned back to the mirror, frowning at his hair. "Sure."

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

Hermione looked at her watch again, and then picked up the parchment Fred's owl had delivered earlier.

_I'll arrive outside of yours around 7 – dress code is smart casual, Fred._

Hermione glanced at her watch yet again as she put the parchment back down: 6:57. She opened up her handbag and summoned items to the top to check they were there. All of her handbags save one had undetectable extension charms. The unmodified handbag she used for whenever she visited her parents – it was just easier to interact in mug- _non-magical_ Britain without magical items that could be difficult to explain away. She'd made that mistake once when she'd accidentally brought a magically colour-changing scarf to a Christmas gathering at her grandparents' house. She'd had to make up a story about a friend who worked in fashion; the high-end, exclusive, groundbreaking technology sort of fashion.

Her musing was interrupted by a loud pop on the other side of the door, shortly followed by a knock. She stood, smoothed her skirts, and walked quickly to the door, pausing to breathe slowly in and out once before reaching out to open the door.

Fred was waiting outside, again tugging at his collar. His hair looked like he'd forgotten what a comb was and his robes were a slightly alarming shade of lime green, but otherwise he'd cleaned up well.

"Hey," Fred said softly in greeting, "you look lovely."

Hermione smiled, ducking her head slightly at the compliment. "You look nervous, which is good, because I feel nervous, which is honestly just ridiculous." She stopped and shook her head in embarrassment. "And I'm babbling already, forgive me?"

"Would you like to head to dinner?" Fred looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh, which Hermione greatly appreciated.

"Yes, please."

Fred stepped forward and was suddenly too close, his breath warm on her cheek as he spoke. "We're apparating there." His voice sounded lower than usual and Hermione felt her temperature rise in response. She looked up as he gently gripped both her arms, feeling as though her skin were rippling outwards with tingles from where he held her. She felt short of breath as she met his clear blue gaze, his eyes framed almost delicately with lightly coloured lashes. Before she could stop herself, she glanced at his lips, realizing her mistake too late and feeling a blush heat her cheeks.

"Determination is really hard when you look like you want to eat me, Hermione." Fred's voice sounded strained, but his lips crooked mischievously as he spoke. She dropped her head self-consciously. "Not to worry though, just hold tight." So saying, Fred pulled her closer and they apparated. She stepped away quickly as they landed, not trusting herself to be so close to him. Already she could feel warmth slowly burning between her legs and her breath was coming in short pants. _Just from standing too close, you are in trouble_. She looked around, carefully not meeting Fred's eyes. They were in a back alley she didn't recognize.

"I know, I know, I take you to all the nice places," Fred drawled. Hermione let out a slightly breathy giggle. Fred extended a hand, "shall we?"

Hermione hesitated only a moment before reaching out with her hand to hold his. His hand was warm and surprisingly large, and held her hand gently but firmly. "Yes – where are we?"

"Bristol." Hermione blinked.

They only had to walk down a few streets before emerging onto a central road with several restaurants. Hermione didn't twig where they were going until they stood outside of the small, brightly lit and boldly decorated restaurant front. She gasped in delight as she read the lettering.

"I've been wanting to eat here for ages, ever since I read about it in the _Guardian_! How did you know?"

Fred looked smug. "A Weasley never reveals his secrets. Well, actually, we usually do, but in this case my lips are sealed."

"Ginny told you, didn't she?"

"Damn" Fred's face fell and Hermione laughed.

"Oh well – better luck being mysterious next time."

Fred grinned slyly, "Next time, eh?"

Hermione lightly rapped his arm with her free hand. "Don't get too cocky." She tugged him forward eagerly, bending to read the menu. "Those all look really tasty – sure you won't mind vegan food?"

"I have it on good authority they do serve wine," Fred replied archly. Hermione chuckled.

"Lead on, Mr Weasley."

She followed him into the restaurant and they were shortly led to a table on the back patio, also decorated with bright colours and strung with fairy lights. Small candles were lit on each table. The whole effect was festive yet still relaxed.

"So, the _Guardian_? That's one of those muggle newspapers, isn't it?"

Hermione again blinked in surprise. "You seem to be rather well informed about the mug- _non-magical_ world these days. I read most of the major papers: _Guardian, Times, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Financial Times_, the_ Economist_, etcetera, etcetera. I like to have multiple perspectives when I read." She shrugged.

Fred laughed. "You haven't changed all that much since Hogwarts, have you?"

Hermione considered. "I've changed in some ways. I no longer go around forcing _spew_ down people's throats."

Fred gave a shout of laughter, startling the couple at the next table. "Finally given up on that, have you?"

"Not at all, just reconsidering my marketing strategy." Hermione's tone was prim, but her eyes sparkled with mirth.

Fred snorted, "Spew not doing the job, then?"

"No, but tell Ron or Harry that and I will hex you so badly you'll beg for one of Ginny's Bat-Bogey hexes instead." Her smile faltered as she realized she'd mentioned Ron. She'd decided beforehand that she'd try not to do that.

Fred seemed to catch her thoughts. "It's ok, you know, about Ron." He paused, clearly searching for words. "We... we spoke. Not," he added quickly, seeing Hermione's expression, "as two men haggling over chattel, or anything in that sense, but... I just wanted to check that I wouldn't..." he trailed off, his hands gesturing eloquently in the silence.

"Check you wouldn't estrange your brother?" Hermione asked quietly. The idea of being discussed was frustrating, but she understood – she'd practically had the same conversation with Ron. It wasn't straightforward, going out with Fred. They were already tied together in so many ways. Other people could get hurt.

"Something like that," Fred nodded, looking down at the table. "It's just, even now – what, 7 years later? – it's still hard with Percy. I mean," he was absently twisting his napkin in his hands as he spoke, "even before he walked out he was a prat and unbearable, but he was still my brother, he was still _family_. But now, even though he's apologized and maybe even changed a little, the fact that he left... it's still there. I mean," he looked up, and Hermione winced at the pain in his eyes, "I just can't forget. Most of us can't. Mum acts like nothing ever happened, and Bill and Charlie are ok with him – but I think that's because he's their younger brother and they feel they have to look out for him or something..."

The waiter interrupted then to take their drinks order. They were silent for a moment after he left.

"Sorry," Fred gave an embarrassed laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. Hermione was again struck by how irresistible Fred looked when he was vulnerable – she felt inappropriately...protective, and wanted to go over to him and cradle his head in her hands. She was surprised at the strength of the urge.

"Shall we try again?"

'Yes." Fred looked at her and gave her a knowing grin that Hermione felt between her legs again. "So, 'non-magical' persons?"

They talked and laughed easily for the rest of the meal after that. Somewhere between their starters and mains they remembered they were Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger, that they'd known each other for years and were already friends, that they'd been through a war, fighting Death Eaters and Voldemort, and the nervousness melted away into easy and companionable conversation. Hermione laughed when Fred made her dessert sing one of the Sorting Hat's many songs, covering it hastily with her hand to keep people at other tables from noticing and whispering urgently at Fred through her tears of laughter for him to make it stop.

They split the bill after an amicable argument about who would pay and walked, slightly unsteadily, out of the restaurant and back to the apparition spot. Hermione's breath hitched as Fred again stepped close, dropping his hands to her shoulders and slowly sliding down her arms, his eyes burning into hers as he did so. They apparated and Hermione stumbled forward slightly as they landed. Heat flared across her entire body as she came into contact with Fred's chest and his arms tightened around her. Without pausing to think she dragged her head upwards, fiercely meeting his descending lips with her own.

Their kiss had no foreplay or teasing, just raw hunger and heat. One of Fred's hands slid down to her lower back, forcing her to arch back and deepen their kiss. As she gasped and clutched at his shirt Fred sucked on her bottom lip, rolling it seductively between his own firm lips. Hermione moaned and fought her hands free to entangle them both in his hair. Fred growled and slid both his hands down lower, pulling at the backs of her legs. Hermione responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck before half jumping, half being lifted by Fred to wrap her legs around his waist, Fred's hands slid back along her legs to firmly grasp her arse. And Hermione could feel the heat radiating from his groin and the hard length of his cock pressing through his jeans and the fabric of her skirt. She sucked on his bottom lip briefly, eliciting another growl, before kissing from the corner of his mouth and along the line of his jaw. His hands squeezed, hard, as she kissed down his neck. Then they were moving and she was being pressed against the wall and Fred took over, starting at her collarbone and energetically kissing, sucking and biting his way up her neck to nip at her earlobe.

"Like it up against a wall, do you?" Hermione shivered at the wicked tone of his whispered words as his lips traced along the side of her face to descend upon her mouth again. His hands moved to grip her waist, sliding her top upwards. She felt liquid pool between her legs as his hands slid over the bare skin of waist, his thumbs rubbing in circles, moving upwards to-

They froze at the sound of a door handle turning. Fred froze for only a split second though before apparating them inside Hermione's flat. Without the support of the wall Fred stumbled slightly and Hermione gracelessly detached herself from Fred. They both stood breathing heavily for a moment, not looking at one another. When Fred moved forward again Hermione held up a hand to stop him, smiling at his confused look. She took both his hands in hers as she turned to face him, holding him at arm's length.

"I... I had a lovely time tonight, and I'd like to do this again, but I'd like to call it a night now." She offered him an apologetic smile. 

He grinned back ruefully. "You sure?"

"No, but yes."

"You're probably right." He gave her a long, searching look before freeing a hand and reaching up to cup one side of her face. "Goodnight, Hermione." He bent and swiftly kissed her cheek before stepping back. Then he gave her a wicked look and added in a low voice, "write about the rest in your diary," before disapparating.

Hermione summoned a bottle of wine and walked deliberately to her bedroom.

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

"George. George!" Fred's shouting roused George from his sullen reverie. He stuck his head out of his bedroom.

"Hey. How'd it-"

"I need it, the Reveal-O-Parchment. I need it right now."

"We really need to find a-"

"Right now, George! Right. Now." George took in Fred's flushed and disheveled appearance and turned away, scowling. He'd gotten lucky all right – well, pulled at any rate. Looked like they hadn't quite made it all the way though. _Good._

"George, I-"

"I'm getting it," George shot back. Two strides took him to the desk and he snatched the parchment violently, scattering quills and other parchments as he did so. He stomped back to the door and thrust it into Fred's hands.

"Why-"

"Bugger off," snapped George, and slammed the door.

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

**Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and following the story – it's so exciting for people to read my writing, and maybe even enjoy it!**

**Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter out. I'm deliberately not going to set a schedule because I know I won't keep to it. However, I have every intention of finishing this story and I'm going to try to get out at least one new chapter each week. I've plotted out most of the romance arc and am trying to fit the mystery/action arc into that (no, we haven't heard the last of the shrinking sweet). So anyway, enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is awesome - I don't own anything.**

**Author's Note: As a head's up, there is some swearing in this chapter, some of it quite intense.**

Chapter 5

George was a mess. He hadn't been himself since the night Hermione had inadvertently revealed her fantasies about himself and his twin. He was frustrated, and mostly because his frustration didn't even make sense. He was almost sure he hadn't been interested in Hermione until Fred had declared his own interest and asked Hermione out. Or had he been? He'd been searching his memories, trying to remember if he'd been attracted to Hermione, and if he'd acknowledged the feeling or simply buried it in deference to Ron. Mates before dates, and all that guff. Now, he wasn't sure what he felt, or when he'd started to feel it, and it was making him guilty, horny, and angry all at once. He was also consumed with a gnawing jealousy burning low in his belly and filling his throat with bile every time Fred went off to see her again. They'd been out four more times in as many weeks, and had been owling constantly in between. George had been on edge the entire time, snarling at Fred and even snapping at his mother during Sunday lunch, which had earned him a sharp rebuke from his usually mild father. He was mostly frustrated with himself, and with his lack of control over his own feelings. It felt childish, like not noticing a toy until Fred had started to play with it, not that Hermione was a toy, though _playing_ with her could be entertaining-

He groaned and stifled the thought. Best not to torment himself. He was hunched over his desk in what he and Fred referred to as the clean room; the explosions room was just across the hall. Surrounding him were crumpled sheets of parchment, his discarded ideas littering the floor. He'd tried to pour his frustrations into inventing, but his drawings and designs were all morbid and cruel. Thus far he'd designed five ways to transfigure a man's cock into a serpent and three ways to render a sudden outbreak of pustules – probably not suitable for mass production.

George looked up, considering the room and all it represented. There were rows upon rows of shelves, lined with ingredients for potions both common and arcane. Several books were shoved seemingly at random onto other shelves, though both he and Fred knew where each book belonged. At one end of the room was a tall cabinet with wooden-framed clear glass doors allowing George to see the shelves inside containing various small bottles of potion. His eyes fixed on one small bottle in the corner.

The thought came to him suddenly and in startling clarity. He knew it was a terrible idea, odious and deceptive, yet he still rose, fingering the hole where his ear had once been, walking to the cabinet as if drawn by some invisible compulsion. The cabinet door opened with a small snick and he gingerly lifted the small crystal bottle out from amongst its fellows. He solemnly swore he was up to no good.

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

Hermione gave a flick of her wand to straighten all of her books in their immaculately ordered shelves. The library was the only room in her flat she'd used an undetectable extension charm on, and she suspected Harry had pulled some strings at the ministry to get her the necessary permission. Most wizards were banned from using undetectable extension charms on private abodes in non-magical areas. It had a habit of generating confusion if discovered. She had cast several charms to make the entrance to her private library undetected, and kept several bookshelves around her flat outside the library to keep her non-magical friends from getting suspicious. Most of her books by non-magical authors (Austen, Hardy, Byatt, and so on) were kept on the outside shelves, as she thought of them, but some favourites were hidden away with her magical tomes. Ilona Andrews and Kresley Cole sat next to one another, and Philippa Gregory occupied an entire shelf. Hermione had given up trying to defend her enjoyment of the Gregory novels to her mother, a Fellow in both the Classics and History departments at Gonville and Caius College in Cambridge. It was easier to just keep them out of sight.

She hummed contentedly to herself as she walked through the rest of the flat, using a somewhat odd combination of magic and manual labour to tidy. Hoovering could be dispensed with entirely, but plumping and straightening cushions with magic somehow felt wrong. Though she generally enjoyed cleaning, she was also happier than usual, smiling distractedly as she reminisced about her past few outings with Fred. Magic definitely did make romantic evenings more – well – magical. And apparition certainly widened the possibilities for where to go. After their initial dinner out, she'd taken him for a surprise outing to Aldeburgh for fish and chips – a bit cheap and cheerful, but they were the best in the country and the Suffolk coastline was gorgeous in the late summer weather. Plus, she'd introduced him to Adnams ale in Southwold. The magical world often had curious gaps, and alcohol seemed to be one of them. Aside from novelty drinks like firewhiskey and dragonmead, magical Britain seemed to be curiously dry. She'd even had to introduce the Weasley family to Pimms! Honestly, how could they call themselves British and not know about Pimms?

After their trip to the coast they'd had two more dates. Fred had taken Hermione to a night out at the magical theatre in Edinburgh, and Hermione had introduced Fred to the wonders of amusement parks. In retrospect, she wondered if that had been a good idea. She could almost see the ideas forming in Fred's brain as he watched the roller coasters. It was a wonder he hadn't owled George directly, She frowned at the thought of George. She hadn't seen him since the twins' visit to St. Mungo's, but she sensed from the way Fred carefully avoided talking about him that something was off between the two of them. She'd never known them to argue – it was one of many things that made people think of them as one person. She supposed they must have argued when they were young; twins did, didn't they? Siblings certainly argued, and she knew from Ron and Ginny's tales that there'd certainly been many other Weasley sibling fights. Maybe she'd ask Ginny if she knew anything.

Since their rather intimate kiss after their first date, Hermione had asked to take things slow with Fred. He'd promised and been true to his word, doing nothing more thrilling than holding her hand and chastely kissing her goodnight. Whilst he was very good at holding her hand, she was beginning to regret asking to take things slow – and wondered if Fred had readily agreed so that he could tease her into wanting more. It was the sort of devious thing he just might do.

A knock sounded at her door. She'd been so engrossed in thoughts of Fred she hadn't heard if they'd walked or apparated to her door, so she tucked her wand in her sleeve just in case. Brushing dust off her trousers, she pulled her hair up into a messy bun as she walked to the door. It was Fred, looking oddly nervous and almost guilty as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

"Hi," she said brightly, stepping aside to let him in. "What brings you here?"

"Just... just wanted to see you." It almost sounded like a question and his ears were turning pink. Hermione had been surprised to find that something she'd found ridiculous on Ron seemed frankly adorable on Fred. "I know we didn't plan anything, but I just," he paused, fidgeting again and not quite meeting her eyes, "I just had to see you." This last came out sounding strained, and Hermione smiled. Cocky as he was, it was amusing to see Fred when he was being shy.

"It's no problem. I'm just doing a spot of cleaning. Come through to the kitchen and I'll make some tea." He followed her through to her tiny kitchen, standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway as she boiled the water magically. She had a kettle but she only used in when non-magical friends were visiting; saved on electricity. "I've been meaning to ask you, are things alright with you and George? You haven't mentioned him lately and usually your every other sentence is about him." Her back was turned, so she didn't see Fred's face drain of all colour as he stepped back a pace.

"I... I should go," he mumbled, turning to head towards the door.

Hermione reached out to grab his sleeve, tugging him to her and wrapping her arms around him. "Don't be silly. I'm glad you dropped by. I was just thinking of you before you did. Actually," she said with a slow smile, sliding her hands underneath his shirt to rest on the warm skin of his back, "I was rethinking my earlier request to take things slow. Maybe," she started kissing her way up the buttons of his shirt, "maybe we should speed things up just a bit."

She lifted her head and rose up on her toes to capture his mouth in a kiss. He didn't respond for a moment, but then he tenderly put his arms around her, holding her gently yet firmly and tilted his head downwards to allow her mouth better access. His lips moved slowly over hers, seeming to explore and savour every inch of her lips, his tongue brushing hers heavily when she opened her mouth. His hands began moving and up and down her back, pressing her closer and robbing her of breath. It was utterly different from her other kiss with Fred, deeper and with a slower but still heated burn of passion. A confused thought tried to make its way to the top of her oxygen-starved brain and she finally broke the kiss, staring up at Fred in confusion and panting for breath.

He was grinning wickedly now. "Like it slow and deep, eh?"

It hit her then.

"_George!?"_

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

"Like it slow and deep, eh?" The moment he said it, George knew it was a mistake. Hell, the whole thing had been a mistake. He'd almost left when she'd asked about him, thinking he was Fred. Almost, but then she'd kissed him...

"_George!?"_

"Hermione, I- OW! Bloody hell, woman!" She'd reached up to grab his ears and had pulled on them. Hard.

"Polyjuice potion," she hissed. She was livid, so mad she was practically spitting, her hair seeming to stand on end like a cat's. Before she could move, he apparated behind her and snatched up her wand from the kitchen countertop. No need to give her ammunition.

"What are- give me my wand, George Weasley!"

"Look, I'm sorry, I just-"

"Shut it," she growled. He apparated into the lounge and she paced after him. "Give it to me."

"Not until you've calmed down, I don't have a death wish. Hermione, look, I'm sorry-"

"Good. Now give me my wand."

"Please, just let me explain-"

"I have no interest in hearing any explanations. I just. Want. My. Wand."

'Hermione, I-"

"Give me my FUCKING wand!"

George froze. Hermione never swore, ever. It was then he noticed that she wasn't trembling with rage, but with barely controlled panic. Her face was white and her forehead coated with a thin sheen of sweat. It made no sense – why would she be frightened? She had to know he wouldn't hurt her, would never-

It was then he noticed her exposed forearms, white from never seeing the sun, one of them covered with dull pink markings. _Mudblood_.

Shit.

Silently, he handed her the wand. "I'm sorry."

He disapparated.

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

Fred noted George skipping dinner and going straight to his room but didn't go to him. Ordinarily he would have, but he didn't want to have yet another tense and angry conversation where the two of them pointedly _didn't_ talk about Hermione. Instead he ate his own dinner in silence, idly flicking through scribbled ideas on various parchments. It was a good thing the shop was doing well, as he and George hadn't designed a thing in the past four weeks. It was hard to get any work done when you weren't speaking to your inventing partner. He glanced at George's bedroom door. They should probably talk – he missed his twin. They had never been apart for long, and they rarely fought. They were separate and yet so closely entwined in each other's lives it was sometimes hard to tell where one twin ended and the other began.

Resolved to speak to George the next day, he washed up and headed to his room. Once there he sat down heavily on the bed, wearied from the strain of not speaking to his twin, wondering if George had been more cut up about the whole thing with Hermione than he let on. The thought of Hermione brought a smile to his face. He was pretty sure his sneak-attack-abstinence plan was working. With luck, he'd be renegotiating 'taking things slow' when he next saw her.

With that thought in mind, he reached for the Reveal-O-Parchment and tapped it with his wand. Hermione wrote some kinky stuff after their evenings out, and some illuminating things in between. He'd grown used to reading her thoughts each evening, looked forward to seeing what went on inside her head.

_-didn't realize it was still so bad. I felt like I couldn't breathe, and it was hard to see as well. It was like she was right there again. I could hear her voice and almost feel the pain. It makes me so angry that after all this time, all the work I've put in to get past this, something so simple as not having my wand can set the panic off._

Fred frowned, he'd have to find a way to ask her what that was about – she sounded almost frightened. But as he read the next words, he forgot about her distress and his face hardened.

_But speaking of anger, I'm furious with George right now. How dare he! I'm so mad that I didn't get the chance to slap him, or punch him, or at least hex him to pieces. I'll have to ask Ginny to help me with that one. I'm sure she won't ask any questions. But what makes me feel so angry and sick is that I actually enjoyed it._

Fred felt a sick knot forming in his stomach at the words.

_It was nothing at all like Fred, and yet so clearly almost the same person at the same time. I felt so safe and protected in his embrace, which is almost embarrassingly primitive, and the things he was doing with his mouth were incredible-_

"GEORGE!"

His door ricocheted off the wall as he burst through, and George's door groaned in protest as he wrenched it open. George was sitting on his bed, looking startled as Fred stormed in.

"YOU – YOU _CUNT_!"

Fred punched George then, so hard that his twin was knocked off the bed. "How could you!?" Fred pulled his wand out and pointed it furiously at George's face, inches away from the blood that dripped from his twin's nose.

"I- I'm sorry, Fred. I know I shouldn't have. It just hurt-"

"Hurt! No, this hurts." He blasted him across the room and George crashed heavily against the wall, sliding awkwardly to the floor. He made no move to retaliate though, but looked up with a forlorn expression on his face, the blood running freely now down his chin and staining his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I'm sorry. All I did was kiss her, I swear-"

"THIS – IS NOT – ABOUT – HER!" Fred punctuated each word with another blast from his wand. "It's- it's about you – and-" he flung his wand away in frustration and despair. "_You and me!_ You're supposed to have my back, George. You're f_amily_, you're _my twin_. MY _FUCKING_ TWIN!"

George looked miserable. He hadn't moved from where he had fallen and was looking at Fred in dejection.

"Just- why did you do it? Can you just tell me why you did it?"

George wiped some of the blood off his face with the back of his hand. His voice sounded hoarse when he spoke. "I saw the polyjuice potion bottle and I... I just wanted to- to be with her, just for a little while. I- I care for her too-"

"Bollocks. You just want what you can't have. I've been interested for months – you never said anything. You can't possibly feel the way I do."

George stood slowly, grimacing with pain. "I do care." He looked Fred in the eyes. "I don't know why, or when, but I do."

Fred stared at his twin for a long moment. "Well if you care so bloody much, then you're coming with me so you can apologize." George just nodded.

When Hermione opened the door to find the two of them outside, George bruised and bloody, her face paled and she ushered them inside, guiding George to a couch.

"What happened? George, are you all right? _Accio_ first aid box." A small green and white box flew through the air and Hermione opened it, simultaneously scanning George with her wand.

Watching her tend to his twin, something nasty flashed across Fred's face. "So that's how it is? One kiss and you prefer him?" Hermione looked up sharply, then between the two brothers.

"Did you do this to him?" She stood, folding her arms together.

"Were you going to tell me you kissed him, or just see him behind my back?"

Hermione's face flushed but she stood her ground. "I would never do that! How can you even think that?"

It was Fred's turn to flush with shame. Of course she wouldn't do that. "Well, were you at least going to tell me?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked between the two of them again. "I don't know." She held up a hand to quell Fred's outburst. "I don't know. I do not like being put into a position where I need to lie," she glared at George who hung his head, "but... look at you two." She gestured at both of them. "You're family, twins. Nothing should come between that, especially not me." She sighed heavily. "So, maybe I wouldn't have told you." She turned back to Fred, facing him fully, pleading with her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Fred. I had no idea – and maybe I should have told you straight away, but I was worried." She looked between them again. "You two shouldn't fight. If we learned anything from the war, it was that love and loyalty are important, and I didn't – _don't_ – want to be the cause of... of fighting between you two."

Fred looked at her for a long moment, and then scrubbed his hand across his face. "I'm sorry too. It's just, when I read about how you enjoyed kissing him I-"

"Wait, when you _what?_"

Shit, shitshitshit. "Er, when George told me-"

"You _read_? You've been reading _my diary_, my _private_ diary?" Hermione's wand was out and her eyes were murderous.

"I- I can explain-"

"Get out."

"Hermione," George spoke now and she whirled on him, wand inches from his chest.

"Both of you. Get out." Neither Fred nor George moved.

"GET OUT!"

They left.

**GWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFWGWHGFW**

**Author's Note: I can't believe how many people are reading this, and I've now got 100+ followers! Thank you so much everyone – hope you continue to enjoy the read. **

**Also, just to be clear, I'm not planning this story as a soap opera, with lots of angst and jerking the characters' feelings around all the time. However, I don't think that trying have a committed three-person relationship (especially where two of them are twins) in societies where two people is the norm (I'm assuming this is probably the case for the wizarding world) is going to be easy for anyone involved. So, while everyone will get their happily-ever-after, they won't get it right away, and not without difficulty. **


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